—April Bradley
“If you are a writer, you will be rejected. This is not just a painful and inevitable fact of the profession; it is also painfully essential. Rejections force writers into uncomfortable and vulnerable spaces. It means persevering and considering that the work you thought was perfect is not quite finished yet. Eventually, you’ll realize that no work is ever perfect and that isn’t what matters anyways. What matters is if it lands. Does it resonate with the reader? Don’t get me wrong—it should be good. It should be the literal best you can make it; but that will always only be half the equation. The trick to getting your work published is matching it with the right journal, the right editor, and ultimately, the right readers. Take, for instance, when I submitted what could loosely be considered a ‘ghost story’ to a small but respectable literary journal and got the following response: ‘We’re not keen on ghost stories and prefer that when a main character dies that the story dies with her or him.’ Fair enough, right? That rejection might have deterred me if I’d allowed it. But that same month, The Missouri Review released their ‘Ghosts’ issue (Summer 2013), proving that at least one editor out there was keen on ghost stories. I tried again, considered every rejection with a critical eye, [and] made changes as necessary, and eventually my story was published.”
—Brianne M. Kohl
“The truth is [that] rejection letters are always a blow, like someone threw cold water on your face or you fell while performing on stage in front of your parents and two-hundred almost-strangers or your best friend forgot your birthday. The truth is that rejection hurts! But when you are in love with your craft, it doesn’t stop you. As writers we are compelled to write, so we pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, carve out the time, and persevere until that letter arrives that says, ‘We love your writing and want to publish your piece in our next edition!’ And then we start all over again!”
—Dr. Trish Dolasinski
“In my experience, one of the most important lessons about rejection is that one may receive many, many ‘form rejections’ without ever having any real correspondence with a reader or an editor. This is why the journals that offer feedback or editors who offer explanations for the rejection are so instructive for the emerging writer. I was a lucky beginner because I had instructive feedback on some of my rejections when I first started to submit to journals. One journal in particular sent, along with the kind rejection, excerpts from the notes of each of the four readers who had considered my work from the slush pile. I could see in their comments that they didn’t necessarily reject my piece for the same reasons, and, more importantly, I had proof that they were ‘real people’—invested, knowledgeable, discerning, and supportive of my efforts. And I had proof that four people had read my work! Having these comments in my literary pocket gave me such confidence. To know that editors were actually digesting my work, weighing my words, and considering my craft decisions was the best kind of rejection, and this information gave me another portal through which I could resee and then revise my work.”
—Jolene McIlwain
“Ask any short-fiction writer who actively submits stories which kind of rejections bug them the most, and you’ll get a range of responses. My pet peeves run a gamut. I’m fine with a curt form rejection as long as it comes quickly. A few weeks and no hard feelings. But more than a few months without even an apology for the wait? Sorry but that’s rude. I also find generic praise-filled rejections that end with tepid ‘we’d love to read more in the future’ sign-offs highly suspect. If they really liked my stuff, I’d prefer something specific in the rejection to indicate they actually read the story. Otherwise, no more barking up that tree again, especially if they charge reading fees. My best defense [against] rejection-frustration is to send out one submission for every rejection as it comes in, immediately, if possible. It’s a good way to keep hope alive, if only to tread water in the same place.”
—Alice Kaltman
“I got another rejection today. It was a standard form rejection—nothing special. I logged it into my tracking system, an action that gives me an odd satisfaction. The practical nature of it somehow helps take the sting out of the rejection. I feel like the rejections are like sonar on the bottom of the ocean floor—I send out my signal; I receive back a signal: You are here. You are writing. These rejections are my touchstone with the literary world. This was a round hole for my square peg, and I need to keep sending my signals out until I find the right fit. I will only find that right fit if I keep on sending.”
—Jennifer Kircher Carr
“After a story has garnered a few rejections, there is a tendency to believe that it must not be good, that the writer ought to substantially revise the story or worse, abandon it altogether. This is unfortunate. It may be the case if you’re new to writing, but if you’ve been at it awhile, published a fair body of work, and believe in your story, you may want to disabuse yourself of this notion.
“I had a story I’d worked on for several months. A rather unusual story, I really loved it and believed in it nonetheless. When it came time to send it out, I aimed pretty high. This was in the days before Submittable, and I spent a lot of time and energy printing out my story, writing cover letters, licking stamps. Months later, the rejections began flowing in, form rejections, some witheringly [opening] with, ‘Dear Writer.’ I don’t recall getting any personal rejections, much less any constructive feedback.
“Each time the story was rejected, I went back in and looked for something to change to improve its chances. I’d lost my belief in the story, began to doubt every sentence, every word choice, every comma. I made big, sweeping changes to the POV. I changed tenses from past to present [and then changed them] back to past. I truly came to hate the story, and after thirty-seven rejections (you read that right), I finally gave up and stopped sending it out.
“A couple of years passed. I had another piece I liked that was a bit more experimental in form. I sent it to the editor of a long-coveted journal. After several months, I received one of my kindest rejections to date. The editor said he really loved the story but had chosen a somewhat similar story already for the issue and [asked whether I] could … send something else. I was instructed to put ‘solicited story’ on my cover letter. I was so excited but didn’t have anything else to send! Knowing that journal staffs can change, I really wanted to strike while the iron was hot, while this editor was still in charge.
“I dredged up the only other story I had available at the time, the oft-rejected story (well, the several versions of it I had in my documents folder). I discovered I still loved most of the original version, the one I’d worked so hard on and believed in before all the rejections.
“You guessed it. The editors loved it and enthusiastically accepted it. It remains one of the publications I’m most proud of. This story went on to be anthologized in a terrific collection showcasing ‘provocative’ women writers. I came away from that experience finally understanding that rejections and acceptances are often about finding the right fit. If you believe in your story, there’s an editor out there who will believe in it, too. Don’t give up on it.”
—Kathy Fish
“Over the years of writing and submitting work, I’ve learned that rejection doesn’t necessarily mean no, but rather ‘not yet, not this market.’ Market research and persistence is the key to becoming successfully published. A few examples from my own experience:
“In 2012, I wrote a flash piece called ‘Haboob Season’ for the Paris Review contest, ‘Dog Days of Summer.’ I didn’t place in that contest, so I continued to submit the story to five more markets, all of which rejected me, including one who told me they really disliked the ending. Without making any major changes (I loved the ending!), I entered the piece in WOW! Women on Writing’s Flash Fiction contest. A couple of months later, I was notified that I had reached the semi-finalist stage. Then I received an e-mail saying I was a finalist, and on one lovely morning a few days later, I learned I had won fi
rst place! WOW! Women on Writing published that story, along with awarding me a nice cash prize.
“In 2014, I wrote an essay called ‘Mapping the Body’ that I sent to Hunger Mountain as my submission for their themed issue on the body. Perfect match, right? Not quite. The editors sent me a nice rejection saying they debated a long time before deciding not to use the piece, so I submitted the essay to four more markets and received nothing but form rejections. Then I sent it to Hippocampus Magazine. Not only did Hippocampus accept my essay for publication; they nominated it for [the] 2015 Pushcart Prize!”
—Jeanne Lyet Gassman
“There is such a thing as ‘good ink,’ and a rejection can be something to celebrate. Editors are busy people—if they take time to write a note, you can trust they mean what they say. Even a form rejection is a good thing because it means you are putting yourself out there, taking a chance.”
—Elizabeth Pettie
“Rejections can be what used to be called a ‘PRS’—a printed rejection slip—and those are like a blank face or a cold shoulder. Luckily, they mean as little as an anonymous comment on the Internet. They don’t reflect a thing about your work or about the real you. Ignore them, and keep on going.
“Then there are the rejections that teach you something you did not know before about your own work. Sometimes you believe you’ve paid attention to theme or language or character, while a reader didn’t feel it come through. Then you can go back through your work with these fresh eyes implanted in your skull and have one of those wonderful ‘Aha!’ moments.”
—Savannah Thorne
“Rejections are an inevitable byproduct of acceptances. Show me a published writer, and I’ll show you someone who knows what rejection feels like. It just comes with the territory. And rejection doesn’t have to be the automatic negative we think it is. After all, it doesn’t mean the end of the road for your piece or for your opportunity to work with a particular publication.
“For example, a piece of mine was returned to me in what is typically called a ‘revise and resubmit’ request. The editors were rejecting the piece as it was but expressed interest in it nonetheless. They gave some idea of what they’d like to see change—adding some depth to the main character, increasing the length, etc.—and offered me an opportunity to revise it and resubmit it. Because the feedback they’d given was useful and meaningful, I spent time tweaking and rewriting, sent it back in, and … they loved it. Even better than the acceptance, though, was that the story had become an overall stronger piece.
“Another time, I received a swift rejection to my application [for] a fellowship with a popular publication. It was the second time I had applied for the annual fellowship, and I was incredibly disappointed. Soon after, a mentor I was working with recommended that I submit a particular story to that same publication (not knowing that I had applied for the fellowship). I was resistant. The story had been included in my application packet, and my feeling was [that] if they hadn’t wanted me (and it) for the fellowship, why would they possibly want to publish it? But a friend pointed out that they might be looking for completely different things in fellowship applications than they are in individual stories for publication, so off I sent it. And they accepted it. Had I not tried, tried again, that story wouldn’t have found a home with one of my favorite journals.
“All of this is just to say that rejections are not always the downfall we initially see them to be. They can be an opportunity to revise and rethink. The goal is always to grow as a writer, and sending out submissions can get you there, even if it’s not quite always through the route you’d expect.”
—Denise H. Long
“I have received many rejection notices. Of course, they are never welcome, but any writer who consistently submits material will inevitably experience rejection. However, all is not always lost. One of the more encouraging rejection notices that I have received, among several, was from a mid-tier literary journal where the editor stated that my work did not make the final cut but that [it made it to] the final round of discussion before losing an acceptance vote 3-2. I was specifically asked to submit again. I did so and was happy a few months later to have two pieces accepted by the same journal. Don’t give up. Keep writing and submitting. Eventually, good things will happen.”
—Dr. Ralph Monday
“A few years ago, I submitted a piece and subsequently received a form rejection via e-mail. Rejection is part of the business; I’ve no problem with that, but the piece wasn’t even removed from the journal’s submission queue. This felt particularly insulting. My work deserves a rightful rejection. They’ve every right to throw the piece in recycling, but I refuse to empty the bin for them. So there it sat in their system for months as a reminder of my stubbornness, my strange sense of writerly pride. And so it remained until a new group of editors came on board, read the piece not knowing it had already been rejected, and sent along another response ... an acceptance.”
—Michael Schmeltzer
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MY BEST WRITING ADVICE
“Writing as a craft is more than a profession and more than a job. It is a love and passion that grips our souls and filters into our day jobs, our families, and our friends. Writing flows from who we are and what we do. When the muse urges, whether it be a piece on child-rearing for a parent magazine or a personal essay about your own growth, answer the call. Don’t walk away because that creative spirit inside will wither and move on.”
—DR. TRISH DOLASINSKI, E.D.D.
My best advice for someone who wants to see their writing get published is to write often. Find time to fit in as many writing sessions each week as possible. Keep your creativity limber. Practice great opening lines. Play with unusual word combinations. Fill a journal with rants. Do anything to stay engaged with words.
Every writer can make time in his life to write. You don’t need to quit your day job. Great bursts of writing can happen fifteen minutes at a time. Cut back on your television viewing. Shorten your shower in the morning. Use your lunch break to write. Do anything necessary to get a fifteen-minute writing session under your belt once or twice a week. Those fifteen-minute sessions add up fast. Your finished work will pile up, too.
It’s just as important to carve out time to read. You need to be an expert in the kind of writing you’re producing. Buy a stack of journals. Read a new short story or essay every single day. Absorb the polish of published work. Let other writers’ styles encourage you to be original. Get inspired by the amount of great writing being published today.
MAKE FRIENDS
Expand your writing circle by reaching out to writers and editors on Twitter, on Facebook, at conferences, and at your local library. These people, and often the magazines themselves, have social media profiles, making it very easy to find them and connect.
The main social-media players in essay and short-story arenas are Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn. Many writers and editors are on Goodreads, Wattpad, Google+, and Pinterest, too, but those sites seem to be more useful for facilitating other kinds of connections—such as those you make with an audience for your book projects. I think the best resource for networking short writing is Twitter, so let’s take a look at how to maximize your networking on this platform; then you can recreate the same steps with your Facebook and LinkedIn connections.
Twitter is basically a massive online cocktail party. All you need to do to begin a conversation is to say “hello.” On Twitter, a “hello” is when you follow someone’s feed. Start by following magazines you’d like to know better. Maybe they’ll follow you back right away or maybe not. You can either just listen to what they have to say (read their feed), or you can engage with them directly by retweeting their posts or mentioning them in comments. Watch for posts about open submission dates and opportunities. Follow the magazine editors, too. And me, @WindyLynnHarris! I publish freelance opportunities and insider tips every week.
When you retweet someone you’d like to make an authentic connecti
on with, add a personal line or two. Maybe you type “Great blog post!” or “Thank you for the heads-up about that contest.” Anything that let’s her know you’re a professional writer, too, and interested in connecting can only help you.
The goal is to create connections without being annoying, so don’t ask a bunch of unsolicited questions and don’t pester someone to read your stuff. Instead, read others’ work. Support magazines by retweeting their posts. Support writers by retweeting theirs, too. Cheer people on when you can. Congratulate anyone doing anything you think merits applause. When you find a writer publishing stories similar to yours, submit your work to the same magazines. Every time you get a byline, tweet about it. Let the other writers looking for connections know that you’re at your desk submitting work, too. Tag the journal in your tweet. Thank them, even. By being part of the literary community, you’ll gain an understanding of who appreciates and crafts writing that is stylistically similar to yours.
“I intended to join a local writers group, improve craft, [and] network with other writers, but with small kids, life always got in the way: colds, viruses, mounting piles of laundry, exhaustion, the lure of pajamas and a warm laptop in bed ... Then I took an online writing class and met another mom who, like myself, was yearning for connection but didn’t have the time to venture out. Together we created WordTango, a writing community for busy writers like ourselves. We soon gained a reputation as an engaging, supportive environment, and writers across the globe joined our online community. Suddenly writing no longer felt isolating. Instead it was a point of connection, a chance for vibrant conversation. I found accountability partners to keep me on track, critique partners to swap stories with, writing buddies to commiserate [with] about rejection and celebrate success. WordTango is like a virtual coffee shop that I can step into … anytime.”
Writing & Selling Short Stories & Personal Essays Page 22